"
"When does the next train start, Herbert?" asked Frank, pale with
apprehension.
"In an hour."
"I shall go by that train."
"I don't think I can get ready so soon," said Mark, deliberately.
"Then you can come by yourself," replied Frank, impetuously. "I beg your
pardon, Mark," he added. "I cannot expect you to feel as I do. It is not
your mother."
"It is my stepmother," said Mark.
"That is quite different. But I must not linger here. I will go at once
to Dr. Brush, and tell him of my summons home. Good-bye, Herbert, till
we meet again."
"I will go with you to the depot, Frank," said his friend,
sympathizingly. "Don't wait for me. Go ahead, and make your preparation
for the journey. I will be at your room in a quarter of an hour."
"You won't go by the next train, Mark?" said Herbert.
"No. I don't care to rush about as Frank is doing."
"You would if it were your own mother who was so ill."
"I am not sure. It wouldn't do any good, would it?"
"You would naturally feel anxious," said Herbert.
"Oh, yes, I suppose so!" answered Mark, indifferently.
Mark Manning was slender and dark, with a soft voice and rather
effeminate ways.
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